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Hey kidz,
Hope everyone is doing well. The big thing this week is that Black Happy Day & Heller Mason are now in stores because their street date was August 29. Spending most of my time still working on things about that.
Our good friend Patricia Russo has a short story appearing in The Best of Not One of Us available on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0809562154/sr=8-1/qid=1156539147/ref=sr_1_1/102-6317652-5310567?ie=UTF8
In about a month (September 23), both Remora & Plumerai will be playing at the Walls of Sound Festival in Fredericksburg, VA. More info on all the bands at www.myspace.com/wallsofsoundfest
We have a lot in the works right now, a new label sampler (finally after five years), some new mini-zine cartoons, & a couple free MP3 EPs coming soon. More news on those in the next couple weeks.
Below are a some recent reviews.
hrt
Brian John Mitchell
Brian John Mitchell
VLOR: A FIRE IS MEANT FOR BURNING
Vlor's beginnings stretch back to 1992, the band's two original EPs being recorded in the mid-late 90s before its demise. Resurrecting the project sans original member Russell Halasz and with the help of an array of notable artists, including Lycia's Mike Vanportfleet, Aarktica's Jon DeRosa, and Rivulets' Nathan Amundson, Silber head Brian John Mitchell has compiled Vlor's first full length, A Fire is Meant for Burning. Assembled from the best results of these collaborations, built around 90 minutes of his own original guitar-based source material, the mostly instrumental and remarkably cohesive album contains just over 40 minutes of melodic and sonically diverse constructed compositions.
All twelve tracks here are anchored by Mitchell's simplistic-yet-emotive repeating guitar riffs and arpeggios, most of the album's sonic variety coming largely from its various collaborators. The nicely produced "potential new sound", its simple guitar arpeggio buried beneath beautifully textured layers of Indian instrumentation and atmospheric processed loops, is one of the disc's loveliest and most effective, but even the stripped down, melodic, interweaving two-guitar interplay of "light at the speed of sound" proves quite dynamic. The sinister guitar riff, dark melodic counterpoint, and unsettling distorted noise of "wires" provide another particularly striking moment.
As expected, "days like smoke", the only title featuring Mike Vanportfleet, is arguably the disc's highlight, a simply beautiful foray into melancholia, airy breaths searing the background of the lush, synth-heavy delivery that sets it apart from the rest of the material here. Also notable for their differences are "suncatcher", featuring the concrete ethereal vocals of Jessica Bailiff, and "new machine", still experimental but featuring a more traditional rock arrangement complete with percussion courtesy of Paolo Messere.
From slightly folksy guitar simplicity to lush ethereal moments, Vlor's return is a diverse and rather successful jump into experimental collaborative territory. Its occasionally sloppiness, likely due to it's varying original sources, actually often adds an extra touch of humanity rather than detracting from the material, creating an album that's imperfect, but almost necessarily so. Always underpinned and grounded by Mitchell's repetition but given life through the intervention and imaginations of its collaborators, A Fire is Meant for Burning is an emotive and relevant offering that proves greater than the sum of its parts.
~ Joshua Heinrich, Grave Concerns
Vlor's beginnings stretch back to 1992, the band's two original EPs being recorded in the mid-late 90s before its demise. Resurrecting the project sans original member Russell Halasz and with the help of an array of notable artists, including Lycia's Mike Vanportfleet, Aarktica's Jon DeRosa, and Rivulets' Nathan Amundson, Silber head Brian John Mitchell has compiled Vlor's first full length, A Fire is Meant for Burning. Assembled from the best results of these collaborations, built around 90 minutes of his own original guitar-based source material, the mostly instrumental and remarkably cohesive album contains just over 40 minutes of melodic and sonically diverse constructed compositions.
All twelve tracks here are anchored by Mitchell's simplistic-yet-emotive repeating guitar riffs and arpeggios, most of the album's sonic variety coming largely from its various collaborators. The nicely produced "potential new sound", its simple guitar arpeggio buried beneath beautifully textured layers of Indian instrumentation and atmospheric processed loops, is one of the disc's loveliest and most effective, but even the stripped down, melodic, interweaving two-guitar interplay of "light at the speed of sound" proves quite dynamic. The sinister guitar riff, dark melodic counterpoint, and unsettling distorted noise of "wires" provide another particularly striking moment.
As expected, "days like smoke", the only title featuring Mike Vanportfleet, is arguably the disc's highlight, a simply beautiful foray into melancholia, airy breaths searing the background of the lush, synth-heavy delivery that sets it apart from the rest of the material here. Also notable for their differences are "suncatcher", featuring the concrete ethereal vocals of Jessica Bailiff, and "new machine", still experimental but featuring a more traditional rock arrangement complete with percussion courtesy of Paolo Messere.
From slightly folksy guitar simplicity to lush ethereal moments, Vlor's return is a diverse and rather successful jump into experimental collaborative territory. Its occasionally sloppiness, likely due to it's varying original sources, actually often adds an extra touch of humanity rather than detracting from the material, creating an album that's imperfect, but almost necessarily so. Always underpinned and grounded by Mitchell's repetition but given life through the intervention and imaginations of its collaborators, A Fire is Meant for Burning is an emotive and relevant offering that proves greater than the sum of its parts.
~ Joshua Heinrich, Grave Concerns
A simple acoustic guitar part repeated over and over, accompanied by some beeping electric guitar strings brings forth A Fire Is Meant for Burning. As the music continues, the electric guitar goes into a melody of its own amongst the acoustic riff, which stays the same. Thus is the glory of Vlor, the content is basically instrumental music with two guitar parts, bass, and electronic and/or sampled elements.
Each song starts off with an acoustic riff that stays the same throughout the whole song. Another guitar part will eventually add to the sound, and the bass and the electronic sounds join in. Although the songs use the same riff over and over, the sound seems to spread out the farther into the song you go, causing a wider, more intense sound.
The main problem with A Fire Is Meant for Burning is that all the exclusively instrumental music seems to fade into the background. It's very much like "spare time with a guitar" with very simple clean guitar melodies that repeat ad nauseam. The good side is that it's not distracting, and could offer a pleasant experience. You might sort of think of it somehow as a less interesting version of Agalloch.
~ Brandon Strader, Maelstrom
Each song starts off with an acoustic riff that stays the same throughout the whole song. Another guitar part will eventually add to the sound, and the bass and the electronic sounds join in. Although the songs use the same riff over and over, the sound seems to spread out the farther into the song you go, causing a wider, more intense sound.
The main problem with A Fire Is Meant for Burning is that all the exclusively instrumental music seems to fade into the background. It's very much like "spare time with a guitar" with very simple clean guitar melodies that repeat ad nauseam. The good side is that it's not distracting, and could offer a pleasant experience. You might sort of think of it somehow as a less interesting version of Agalloch.
~ Brandon Strader, Maelstrom
ALAN SPARHAWK: SOLO GUITAR
Solo Guitar, the solo debut from Low's Alan Sparhawk, finds the guitarist experimenting with the effects and space to create moody, lush, orchestral compositions that are concurrently rhythmic and abstract. Recorded live with guitar loops and improvisation, its 9 pieces, ranging in length from under a minute to nearly 18, run the gamut from thick and layered ("how the weather comes over the central hillside" and "how the weather hits the freighter...") to sparse (the more straightforward mellow rock of "how it ends"). Others, like "Sagrado Corazón de Jesú (second attempt)" and "How a Freighter Comes into the Harbor", slowly evolve and build on themselves over time to bridge the gap. However, the album, as a whole, forms a fairly cohesive narrative, one track often leading thematically or sonically into the next, blending noise and melody to impressive ends.
Working with both harmony and dissonance, the album's watery compositions run the gamut from epic and emotive to harsh and unsettling. More traditional melodic phrases often play against a tapestry of underpinning harmonic layers, noise, and loops, while the individual tracks vary sonically despite the album's consistency. The metallic, raw, noise-oriented coldness of "how the engine room sounds", for example, provides an interesting counterpoint to...say...the more melodic "Sagrado Corazón de Jesú (first attempt)".
Both haunting and captivating, Sparhawk's Solo Guitar is a spectacular excursion into instrumental guitar ambience. With a remarkably well produced, full, wide-ranging, often reverb-drenched sound, it's a highly emotive and powerful album that may appeal to fans of his other work, but one that fans of guitar drone shouldn't miss.
~ Joshua Heinrich, Grave Concerns
Solo Guitar, the solo debut from Low's Alan Sparhawk, finds the guitarist experimenting with the effects and space to create moody, lush, orchestral compositions that are concurrently rhythmic and abstract. Recorded live with guitar loops and improvisation, its 9 pieces, ranging in length from under a minute to nearly 18, run the gamut from thick and layered ("how the weather comes over the central hillside" and "how the weather hits the freighter...") to sparse (the more straightforward mellow rock of "how it ends"). Others, like "Sagrado Corazón de Jesú (second attempt)" and "How a Freighter Comes into the Harbor", slowly evolve and build on themselves over time to bridge the gap. However, the album, as a whole, forms a fairly cohesive narrative, one track often leading thematically or sonically into the next, blending noise and melody to impressive ends.
Working with both harmony and dissonance, the album's watery compositions run the gamut from epic and emotive to harsh and unsettling. More traditional melodic phrases often play against a tapestry of underpinning harmonic layers, noise, and loops, while the individual tracks vary sonically despite the album's consistency. The metallic, raw, noise-oriented coldness of "how the engine room sounds", for example, provides an interesting counterpoint to...say...the more melodic "Sagrado Corazón de Jesú (first attempt)".
Both haunting and captivating, Sparhawk's Solo Guitar is a spectacular excursion into instrumental guitar ambience. With a remarkably well produced, full, wide-ranging, often reverb-drenched sound, it's a highly emotive and powerful album that may appeal to fans of his other work, but one that fans of guitar drone shouldn't miss.
~ Joshua Heinrich, Grave Concerns
Well, the title says it all, really. Sparhawk, of slow-core demi-gods Low, sits down, plugs in and goes at it through nine pieces of six-string improv. Far from being a self-indulgent wankfest full of dive-bombing runs up and down the fretboard, Solo Guitar deals in the creation of atmosphere through stretched-out passages full of reverb that arch toward drone, peppering them with strings of languidly emphatic notes, restrained feedback and muffled noise. Those who find Low’s brand of hushed minimalism a tad too dense for their liking will fall into absolute spasms of delirium in the face of Sparhawk’s spare experimentation(s).
Based on the song titles, there appears to be a storyline woven through the album’s duration: a sleepy village, inclement weather on the horizon, a freighter drifting into the village’s harbor, weather and freighter collide, and the nebulous aftermath of that collision. Given the sounds that Sparhawk wrenches and coaxes from his instrument, Solo Guitar is a engaging enough listen on its own. The titular back-story creates a second tier of intrigue, investing the listener in the fate of this imagined ship.
Two long tracks serve as the album’s centerpiece — elongated pieces that set up the bulk of the story — while the other seven are brief punctuations of action pulling it towards conclusion. "Sagrado Corazon de Jesu (second attempt)" is overexposed light, a scene from a neo-western where a lone figure sits on a broken chair, strumming away in a huge room incongruously plunked down in the middle of an otherwise empty plain, the structure’s wall struts barely able to support the weight of a buckled roof as noon-time heat shimmers above the parched earth in hypnotic flutters that won’t cease until well after dusk. "How the Freighter Comes Into the Harbor" next serves as direct contradiction, that the typical lung-searing intensity isn’t going to hold and this day is going to prove very, very different. It begins forebodingly, the guitar mimicking a foghorn that slowly degenerates into series of high pitched notes that increase in volume and morph towards something more insistent, an incessant whine that grows more urgently until they coalesce into one ominous clarion call.
And while the other tracks don’t have the same breadth, they’re no less evocative. "How the Engine Room Sounds" couldn’t be more apt, full of churning roar, then the grinding hesitation of broken gears. Closing track "How It Ends" is a somnolent finale. As delicate as it is mysterious, guided by simple, tremolo accented chord progressions and seeded with understated plucking, it’s either a collective sigh of relief of disaster averted or a mournful coda. In either instance, a fitting and logical end.
~ Maelstrom
Based on the song titles, there appears to be a storyline woven through the album’s duration: a sleepy village, inclement weather on the horizon, a freighter drifting into the village’s harbor, weather and freighter collide, and the nebulous aftermath of that collision. Given the sounds that Sparhawk wrenches and coaxes from his instrument, Solo Guitar is a engaging enough listen on its own. The titular back-story creates a second tier of intrigue, investing the listener in the fate of this imagined ship.
Two long tracks serve as the album’s centerpiece — elongated pieces that set up the bulk of the story — while the other seven are brief punctuations of action pulling it towards conclusion. "Sagrado Corazon de Jesu (second attempt)" is overexposed light, a scene from a neo-western where a lone figure sits on a broken chair, strumming away in a huge room incongruously plunked down in the middle of an otherwise empty plain, the structure’s wall struts barely able to support the weight of a buckled roof as noon-time heat shimmers above the parched earth in hypnotic flutters that won’t cease until well after dusk. "How the Freighter Comes Into the Harbor" next serves as direct contradiction, that the typical lung-searing intensity isn’t going to hold and this day is going to prove very, very different. It begins forebodingly, the guitar mimicking a foghorn that slowly degenerates into series of high pitched notes that increase in volume and morph towards something more insistent, an incessant whine that grows more urgently until they coalesce into one ominous clarion call.
And while the other tracks don’t have the same breadth, they’re no less evocative. "How the Engine Room Sounds" couldn’t be more apt, full of churning roar, then the grinding hesitation of broken gears. Closing track "How It Ends" is a somnolent finale. As delicate as it is mysterious, guided by simple, tremolo accented chord progressions and seeded with understated plucking, it’s either a collective sigh of relief of disaster averted or a mournful coda. In either instance, a fitting and logical end.
~ Maelstrom
All great guitarists obviously go to hell. Robert Johnson set the precedent. You thought Steve Vai was acting in Crossroads? He's recording a tribute album for displaced Sudanese right this second to try and stave off the inevitable. In the pit, down there, in a room with no light, Django Reinhardt is forced to play non-stop while a drop of water falls on his forehead every other minute, for the rest of eternity. Link Wray is being flagellated with his guitar still in hand, while hundreds of expired Gen-X-ers clamor from all sides, begging him to him play the "Pulp Fiction Song" one more time. And Alan Sparhawk can hear all of it.
Calling your record Solo Guitar calls some unfortunate and maybe indulgent preconceptions to mind, but if you recognize Sparhawk's name from his day job as frontman for the infamously minimal Low, all those notions fall away. There's no noodling to be heard here, despite calling one track "Eruption by Eddie Van Halen". (Let no one accuse Sparhawk of lacking a sense of humor.) It's a little more like the finale to Low's "Do You Know How to Waltz?" stretched for 45 minutes-- and much, much scarier. Solo Guitar has less in common with Van Halen than it does with Drum's Not Dead, as Sparhawk tries to move past where music pokes at well-worn emotional centers within us and starts shifting the physical space around us.
Since it's just one man on guitar (in case the title didn't clue you in), that's quite the uphill crawl. Every note has a precedent, has been played a thousand different ways through a thousand different pedals-- getting a "new" sound is hard. But, to hammer a cliche, it's the space around the notes: all the dark, industrial corners of Sparhawk's sweetest Low songs take full court, like the dream of his band evaporating into the blackness of sleep. Any note Sparhawk hits is just to shove at that blackness, pushing it into an interesting corner.
"How the Weather Comes Over the Central Hillside" starts with a few discernible chords and what almost sounds like a bow hitting the strings, but the fog of distortion and reverb drown out any traces of a corporeal trigger. Sparhawk mostly aims for a sound bigger than himself. Later, the 13-minute "Sagrado Corazon de Jesu (second attempt)"-- the first attempt being much more brief-- will spiral out of his hands as three distorted notes are plucked, looped, echoed, and eventually pierced by what sounds like high-pitched surf guitar with its flesh torn off in its final minutes. He imitates more recognizable (but no less abrasive) sounds with the grinding metal screech of "How the Weather Hits the Freighter..." and the rattling reverberation of "How the Engine Room Sounds". The cheekily-titled "Eruption" brings it back to man-with-guitar as Sparhawk makes the same spastic fretboard leaps of Van Halen without any of the discernible space between notes. The Low frontman's played disembodied-force-of-nature pretty well thus far, but it's not hard to project a more human smirk on him here.
Everything Sparhawk tries is pretty successful with a pretty constrained pallette of sounds, from the screeching of "Frieghter" to the more watery Low-friendly tones of "How It Ends", and not much in between. Don't play it at your next party, but put it on it if you want to feel something else immediately: like, uncomfortable. Or overwhelmed. Or whatever Sparhawk felt when he thought this needed to be communicated to others. Something big is coming through these speakers, twisting at the most unexpected moments and changing the air just enough for you to notice.
~ Jason Crock, Pitchfork
Calling your record Solo Guitar calls some unfortunate and maybe indulgent preconceptions to mind, but if you recognize Sparhawk's name from his day job as frontman for the infamously minimal Low, all those notions fall away. There's no noodling to be heard here, despite calling one track "Eruption by Eddie Van Halen". (Let no one accuse Sparhawk of lacking a sense of humor.) It's a little more like the finale to Low's "Do You Know How to Waltz?" stretched for 45 minutes-- and much, much scarier. Solo Guitar has less in common with Van Halen than it does with Drum's Not Dead, as Sparhawk tries to move past where music pokes at well-worn emotional centers within us and starts shifting the physical space around us.
Since it's just one man on guitar (in case the title didn't clue you in), that's quite the uphill crawl. Every note has a precedent, has been played a thousand different ways through a thousand different pedals-- getting a "new" sound is hard. But, to hammer a cliche, it's the space around the notes: all the dark, industrial corners of Sparhawk's sweetest Low songs take full court, like the dream of his band evaporating into the blackness of sleep. Any note Sparhawk hits is just to shove at that blackness, pushing it into an interesting corner.
"How the Weather Comes Over the Central Hillside" starts with a few discernible chords and what almost sounds like a bow hitting the strings, but the fog of distortion and reverb drown out any traces of a corporeal trigger. Sparhawk mostly aims for a sound bigger than himself. Later, the 13-minute "Sagrado Corazon de Jesu (second attempt)"-- the first attempt being much more brief-- will spiral out of his hands as three distorted notes are plucked, looped, echoed, and eventually pierced by what sounds like high-pitched surf guitar with its flesh torn off in its final minutes. He imitates more recognizable (but no less abrasive) sounds with the grinding metal screech of "How the Weather Hits the Freighter..." and the rattling reverberation of "How the Engine Room Sounds". The cheekily-titled "Eruption" brings it back to man-with-guitar as Sparhawk makes the same spastic fretboard leaps of Van Halen without any of the discernible space between notes. The Low frontman's played disembodied-force-of-nature pretty well thus far, but it's not hard to project a more human smirk on him here.
Everything Sparhawk tries is pretty successful with a pretty constrained pallette of sounds, from the screeching of "Frieghter" to the more watery Low-friendly tones of "How It Ends", and not much in between. Don't play it at your next party, but put it on it if you want to feel something else immediately: like, uncomfortable. Or overwhelmed. Or whatever Sparhawk felt when he thought this needed to be communicated to others. Something big is coming through these speakers, twisting at the most unexpected moments and changing the air just enough for you to notice.
~ Jason Crock, Pitchfork
BLACK HAPPY DAY: IN THE GARDEN OF THE GHOSTFLOWERS
Poetic, frightening, and pure, the collaboration of Tara Vanflower (Lycia/Solo) and Timothy Renner (Stone Breath) provide songs that do not lie within the usual formulas of music. This album begins with the eerie “The Leaves of Life,” chanted in poetry form by shared vocals of Renner (a chanting bass) and Vanflower (chanting and ethereally beautiful).
It progresses through the shocking brutality of “Whore,” which swims in the essence of self-deprecation and loathing, the ancient-like story telling of “Edward,” and chilling musicality of “Of The Wind and Loneliness.” There is the witch-like dirge of “How They Weep and Moan,” with its unsettling chants and percussion, and the ancient musical form of the prayerful “A Lyke Wake Dirge.”
In The Garden of Ghostflowers benefits greatly from the marriage of Vanflower’s equally eerie and ethereal vocals and her affiliation with Lycia and Timothy Renner’s involvement with Stone Breath, whose own hymn-like tunes were unique in their presentations. Together, their project can be considered dark and remarkable. You must approach the strangely named band with an anticipation of foreboding music. In the Garden of Ghostflowers is not your typical Top 40 music nor is it airy. It is, instead, a dive into the darkness without a parachute; it is an album of originality and of beauty. It is distinctly not for everyone but, for those who are complete music lovers, it will be a rewarding experience.
This is Silber’s most notable original release in their catalogue aside from their remastering of the classic Lycia canon.
~ Matt Rowe, Music Tap
Poetic, frightening, and pure, the collaboration of Tara Vanflower (Lycia/Solo) and Timothy Renner (Stone Breath) provide songs that do not lie within the usual formulas of music. This album begins with the eerie “The Leaves of Life,” chanted in poetry form by shared vocals of Renner (a chanting bass) and Vanflower (chanting and ethereally beautiful).
It progresses through the shocking brutality of “Whore,” which swims in the essence of self-deprecation and loathing, the ancient-like story telling of “Edward,” and chilling musicality of “Of The Wind and Loneliness.” There is the witch-like dirge of “How They Weep and Moan,” with its unsettling chants and percussion, and the ancient musical form of the prayerful “A Lyke Wake Dirge.”
In The Garden of Ghostflowers benefits greatly from the marriage of Vanflower’s equally eerie and ethereal vocals and her affiliation with Lycia and Timothy Renner’s involvement with Stone Breath, whose own hymn-like tunes were unique in their presentations. Together, their project can be considered dark and remarkable. You must approach the strangely named band with an anticipation of foreboding music. In the Garden of Ghostflowers is not your typical Top 40 music nor is it airy. It is, instead, a dive into the darkness without a parachute; it is an album of originality and of beauty. It is distinctly not for everyone but, for those who are complete music lovers, it will be a rewarding experience.
This is Silber’s most notable original release in their catalogue aside from their remastering of the classic Lycia canon.
~ Matt Rowe, Music Tap
Imagine if the Cocteau Twins got stuck in molasses. In January. Imagine if Death In June took really acidy ecstasy in outer space. Imagine if Amber Asylum had been from Athens, GA. Or that Mary Margaret O'Hara fell asleep listening to Scorpion Wind and woke up as Lady Miss Kier in a poem read aloud by Ezra Pound.
Curious?
You should be. Get this album NOW. No, get it YESTERDAY.
~ Ginnie Moon, Lunar Hypnosis
Curious?
You should be. Get this album NOW. No, get it YESTERDAY.
~ Ginnie Moon, Lunar Hypnosis
“How They Weep and Moan!" - from In the Garden of Ghostflowers
An uncomfortable description for an unnerving song: the slough shed or pooling in the center of the bed after an unholy night between Neko Case and Michael Gira, In the Garden of Ghostflowers is an album of re-imagined traditionals and lucid, gothic folk, a collection of unashamed melodrama and starkly creepy Americana backwash. “How They Weep and Moan!” is maybe the most overt representation of the lot, marrowed banjo clipping over Tara Vanflower’s multi-tracked howls. Timothy Renner speaks in gutturals, intoning indulgent Tom Waits lyrics for those too caught up in Vanflower’s spectral backdrop to make much of a fuss. On top of Renner, she chatters in infantile cackles, “…wail for the dead! We wail for the dead!” Renner and his banjo are sandwiched between her thighs, between luscious coos and farting speech impediments. Because this is sensual in the crassest of connotations, teeming with maggots, sinew and portent and all.
The rest of Ghostflowers creaks and crawls in both directions away from “How They Weep,” the disc’s tiny centerpiece. It’s a harrowing cusp, but a brief and determined inculcation of all experimentation, tone, reverence, and paranoia that seems to define Black Happy Day. Vanflower and Renner, part of the burgeoning Silber family, got a startling chemistry at work here, something that, while contradictory and unsettling, reaches a strange accessibility in simplicity alone. There aren’t many bones in play, and god knows what a “saintbanjo” is, but for every snaggletoothed, evangelical attempt at a swamp dirge, Black Happy Day backs it with fantastically wounded intrigue. Sometimes the conceit pays, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes the difference between the two is enough to spark a bit of heavy devotion.
~ Dom Sinacola, Cokemachineglow
An uncomfortable description for an unnerving song: the slough shed or pooling in the center of the bed after an unholy night between Neko Case and Michael Gira, In the Garden of Ghostflowers is an album of re-imagined traditionals and lucid, gothic folk, a collection of unashamed melodrama and starkly creepy Americana backwash. “How They Weep and Moan!” is maybe the most overt representation of the lot, marrowed banjo clipping over Tara Vanflower’s multi-tracked howls. Timothy Renner speaks in gutturals, intoning indulgent Tom Waits lyrics for those too caught up in Vanflower’s spectral backdrop to make much of a fuss. On top of Renner, she chatters in infantile cackles, “…wail for the dead! We wail for the dead!” Renner and his banjo are sandwiched between her thighs, between luscious coos and farting speech impediments. Because this is sensual in the crassest of connotations, teeming with maggots, sinew and portent and all.
The rest of Ghostflowers creaks and crawls in both directions away from “How They Weep,” the disc’s tiny centerpiece. It’s a harrowing cusp, but a brief and determined inculcation of all experimentation, tone, reverence, and paranoia that seems to define Black Happy Day. Vanflower and Renner, part of the burgeoning Silber family, got a startling chemistry at work here, something that, while contradictory and unsettling, reaches a strange accessibility in simplicity alone. There aren’t many bones in play, and god knows what a “saintbanjo” is, but for every snaggletoothed, evangelical attempt at a swamp dirge, Black Happy Day backs it with fantastically wounded intrigue. Sometimes the conceit pays, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes the difference between the two is enough to spark a bit of heavy devotion.
~ Dom Sinacola, Cokemachineglow
How can a black day be happy? Maybe an oxymoron? It's also the name of a collaboration between Tara Vanflower (of Lycia fame) and Timothy Renner (of Stone Breath), the latter of whom I never heard. I must admit it's a strange affair this, but not an unpleasant one. It's a very odd combination of vocals by both Vanflower and Renner, who have quite opposite voices: one beautiful angelic like and one quite low. The instruments used are furthermore guitar, banjo and dulcimer. This however doesn't lead to Lycia like lyrical, heavenly voices music (which I used to put down as gothic, quite untrue of course) - at least not all the way through. There are some pieces in that quasi mediaeval style. In fact there make several traditional songs into something new, but in all their further treatments, Black Happy Day, are way more experimental than say Lycia or Dead Can Dance. Some of the other pieces just use voice, but then dubbed around, in combination with feedback and reverb. This however doesn't lead to some harsh noise, but rather beautiful pieces of haunting and somewhat frightening music. The beautiful, mediaeval style in combination with experiments of the twenty-first century: that is indeed a strange affair, but strangely enough it works really well.
~ Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly
~ Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly
HELLER MASON: MINIMALIST & ANCHORED
I come from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I’ve lived here for the entire twenty four years of my life, and probably will continue to live here for the rest of my life. My family and friends are here, and there really isn’t anywhere else I’d go in less of course these people came with me. I’ve been an avid music fan since the age of ten, and over these years I’ve often wondered why there are so few notably bands from Wisconsin. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any widely popular or legendary artists to come from this area, but we have some really good bands some of which I’ve known for awhile and some I’ve only discovered in recent years. I enjoy stuff like The Gufs, Rictus Grin, Dark Shift, Lazarus, and now I can happily add Heller Mason to the list of outstanding Wisconsin based bands.
Heller Mason is Todd Vandenberg from Little Chute, Wisconsin along with eleven other genuine musicians. Heller Mason plays a type of music that I find to be really hard to describe, but it’s extraordinarily enjoyable and beautiful sounding. It’s some sort of folk, acoustic, indie, shoegazer, music in the vein of artists like Jamie Barnes, Neil Young, Rivulets, Swans, Nick Drake, and other brilliant singer & songwriter performers. The music can shift from being more upbeat and feel good to more dark and depressive as displayed on a good number of the songs. Naturally I prefer the more depressing songs, but overall the performance is just exquisite. The songs usually consist of lovely acoustic guitars; Todd’s magnificent touching vocals, and the session musicians handling instruments like electric guitar, drums, bass, piano, trumpet, lap steel, cello, Wurlitzer, and additional vocals. Really exceptional in every aspect of the word, this album is beyond excellent. Songs like ‘I Hate Drama & You're Being Dramatic,’ ‘Drown the Villages on the Maine Coast,’ and ‘Barreling Towards Nowhere Like There’s No Tomorrow’ are my favorites, but the whole album plays out flawlessly despite my ability to completely describe it adequately to you. I suggest you view the bands myspace page and then purchase this stunning album from Silber Records.
Another major highlight for me this year and definitely an album to put the Wisconsin music scene on the map finally. I do know that I’ll be listening to this album a lot in the months and years to come.
~ Joe Mlodik, Lunar Hypnosis
I come from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I’ve lived here for the entire twenty four years of my life, and probably will continue to live here for the rest of my life. My family and friends are here, and there really isn’t anywhere else I’d go in less of course these people came with me. I’ve been an avid music fan since the age of ten, and over these years I’ve often wondered why there are so few notably bands from Wisconsin. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any widely popular or legendary artists to come from this area, but we have some really good bands some of which I’ve known for awhile and some I’ve only discovered in recent years. I enjoy stuff like The Gufs, Rictus Grin, Dark Shift, Lazarus, and now I can happily add Heller Mason to the list of outstanding Wisconsin based bands.
Heller Mason is Todd Vandenberg from Little Chute, Wisconsin along with eleven other genuine musicians. Heller Mason plays a type of music that I find to be really hard to describe, but it’s extraordinarily enjoyable and beautiful sounding. It’s some sort of folk, acoustic, indie, shoegazer, music in the vein of artists like Jamie Barnes, Neil Young, Rivulets, Swans, Nick Drake, and other brilliant singer & songwriter performers. The music can shift from being more upbeat and feel good to more dark and depressive as displayed on a good number of the songs. Naturally I prefer the more depressing songs, but overall the performance is just exquisite. The songs usually consist of lovely acoustic guitars; Todd’s magnificent touching vocals, and the session musicians handling instruments like electric guitar, drums, bass, piano, trumpet, lap steel, cello, Wurlitzer, and additional vocals. Really exceptional in every aspect of the word, this album is beyond excellent. Songs like ‘I Hate Drama & You're Being Dramatic,’ ‘Drown the Villages on the Maine Coast,’ and ‘Barreling Towards Nowhere Like There’s No Tomorrow’ are my favorites, but the whole album plays out flawlessly despite my ability to completely describe it adequately to you. I suggest you view the bands myspace page and then purchase this stunning album from Silber Records.
Another major highlight for me this year and definitely an album to put the Wisconsin music scene on the map finally. I do know that I’ll be listening to this album a lot in the months and years to come.
~ Joe Mlodik, Lunar Hypnosis
Not experimental at all on the CD by Heller Mason, from Little Chute. Behind this is one Todd Vandenberg (not to be mistaken with that Dutch guy of the same name), who plays guitar and sings. He is helped by a whole bunch of musicians, playing drums, bass, more guitars, piano, trumpet and cello. Apparently he worked for three years on this album, and originally was indeed just his guitar and voice and later on expanded. All good and well, but this singer songwriter stuff is not very much alike what Vital Weekly writes about and that is not a problem, since that happens more. But I simply can't relate to this music at all. It's too soft, not really outspoken and simply too much 'i love you, but you don't love me' lyrics. Not my coffee at all.
~ Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly
~ Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly
PLUMERAI: RES COGITANS
Silber Records seems to be really good at releasing music that I generally don’t know quite exactly how to describe, but I always end up loving everything I receive from them. Thanks, I like that! Now if only more labels were like this…
The Boston, Massachusetts based band Plumerai is another one of those Silber bands that I’m enjoying a lot, but really don’t know if my following description of the band will do them justice. To me there sound is some sort of dark ethereal pop with nice rocking moments and lead by the stunning vocals of Elizabeth Ezell. Joining Elizabeth is Todd Richards on drums, and the Newman brothers Martin & James on guitars, keyboards, and bass. When I listen to this short EP I get the impression that there drawing some influence from Goth/Alternative/Pop/Rock artists like The Cure, Siouxsie & the Banshees, Portishead, but all in all Plumerai seems like a rather unique creation.
What also makes Plumerai special is that each of the four songs present sound different. ‘Avernal’ has the most dark pop sounding elements and the song often times brings Trip Hop artists like Portishead, Massive Attack and The Third & The Mortal to mind. ‘Linear’ is definitely the most 80’s Goth/Rock/Pop influenced song, sounding almost like a lost song from The Cure’s mid-80’s work, while ‘Illuminata’ is similar with a groovy bass line, backing keyboards, and a really catchy chorus, but returns a bit more to the darker sounding approach. ‘En Vole’ is also rather different adding in an accordion to their unique dark pop rock sound.
All things considered Plumerai delivers a real gem with their ‘Res Cogitans’ EP and I look very much forward to their next album, which will either be out later this year or early 2007. Keep your eyes open for this one.
~ Joe Mlodik, Lunar Hypnosis
Silber Records seems to be really good at releasing music that I generally don’t know quite exactly how to describe, but I always end up loving everything I receive from them. Thanks, I like that! Now if only more labels were like this…
The Boston, Massachusetts based band Plumerai is another one of those Silber bands that I’m enjoying a lot, but really don’t know if my following description of the band will do them justice. To me there sound is some sort of dark ethereal pop with nice rocking moments and lead by the stunning vocals of Elizabeth Ezell. Joining Elizabeth is Todd Richards on drums, and the Newman brothers Martin & James on guitars, keyboards, and bass. When I listen to this short EP I get the impression that there drawing some influence from Goth/Alternative/Pop/Rock artists like The Cure, Siouxsie & the Banshees, Portishead, but all in all Plumerai seems like a rather unique creation.
What also makes Plumerai special is that each of the four songs present sound different. ‘Avernal’ has the most dark pop sounding elements and the song often times brings Trip Hop artists like Portishead, Massive Attack and The Third & The Mortal to mind. ‘Linear’ is definitely the most 80’s Goth/Rock/Pop influenced song, sounding almost like a lost song from The Cure’s mid-80’s work, while ‘Illuminata’ is similar with a groovy bass line, backing keyboards, and a really catchy chorus, but returns a bit more to the darker sounding approach. ‘En Vole’ is also rather different adding in an accordion to their unique dark pop rock sound.
All things considered Plumerai delivers a real gem with their ‘Res Cogitans’ EP and I look very much forward to their next album, which will either be out later this year or early 2007. Keep your eyes open for this one.
~ Joe Mlodik, Lunar Hypnosis
I recently came to the realization that my musical tastes have remained virtually unchanged since high school. While I'm sure that many of my former classmates have dumped innumerable tapes and CDs at the local CD Warehouse, I still reach for those worn copies of Wish, Disintegration, and Violator with some regularity. And not just due to a sense of nostalgia, though there is some of that, nor because I'm ridden with angst (though there is some of that, too).
The simple truth is that I keep listening to those albums because I still find myself inspired and excited by them. They consistently prove to be much more rewarding and interesting than any number of new CDs that I pick up these days, even those that I might praise here on the site. And while some folks, for whom high school is a distant memory, might look on these albums with a tinge of embarassment, I'm not ashamed of these albums. I don't consider them "guilty pleasures" in the slightest, nor do I ever get that "what was I thinking?" sense whenever I pull one off the shelf and slide it into the player.
At the risk of projecting my own musical development (or lack thereof) onto others, I suspect that the folks in Plumerai are much the same way. After all, one can hear the effects of many hours curled up with Disintegration and Pornography all over the 4 songs on the Res Cogitans EP. However, the band is not completely slavish in their devotion to such hallowed sounds, nor are they caught up in unnecessary nostalgia.
While the basslines, wiry, chiming guitars, and synthesizer lines do conjure up all that is good and golden from early 80s British post-punk (case in point, "Linear"), the song structures are a bit more expansive, owing a debt to shoegaze pop. However, vocalist Elizabeth Ezell is no fey chanteuse; her voice contains a snarling sensuality not unlike that of P.J. Harvey or Insides' Kirsty Yates.
Res Cogitans is a little uneven and rough around the edges. There are times where a greater sense of economy would be nice; opening track "Avernal" stalls in the final two minutes with an accordion-driven finale that feels a bit out of place. And while it's nice in this day and age of overproducing and studio fakery to see a band forgo any sense of studio polish and record everything live, especially a band as atmospherically-minded as Plumerai, a little polish and overdubbing is not an absolute evil. There are times where the bass-prominent sound gets muddy, where Ezell's voice isn't as clear and piercing as it should be, where transitions within songs stumble a bit.
But at their core Plumerai have things figured pretty well out, especially when Ezell's shivering voice sidles up against "En Vole"'s sparse guitars and Parisian accordions, or the band weaves some chilled vibes and a John Barry-esque melody into "Illuminata". An album is forthcoming sometime in 2007, and one hopes that the EP's flaws are simply due to the band working out some kinks in their sound. If honed properly, Plumerai could have something really solid and eclectic -- seriously, who incorporates accordion into post-punk? -- on their hands come next year.
~ Jason Morehead, Opus
The simple truth is that I keep listening to those albums because I still find myself inspired and excited by them. They consistently prove to be much more rewarding and interesting than any number of new CDs that I pick up these days, even those that I might praise here on the site. And while some folks, for whom high school is a distant memory, might look on these albums with a tinge of embarassment, I'm not ashamed of these albums. I don't consider them "guilty pleasures" in the slightest, nor do I ever get that "what was I thinking?" sense whenever I pull one off the shelf and slide it into the player.
At the risk of projecting my own musical development (or lack thereof) onto others, I suspect that the folks in Plumerai are much the same way. After all, one can hear the effects of many hours curled up with Disintegration and Pornography all over the 4 songs on the Res Cogitans EP. However, the band is not completely slavish in their devotion to such hallowed sounds, nor are they caught up in unnecessary nostalgia.
While the basslines, wiry, chiming guitars, and synthesizer lines do conjure up all that is good and golden from early 80s British post-punk (case in point, "Linear"), the song structures are a bit more expansive, owing a debt to shoegaze pop. However, vocalist Elizabeth Ezell is no fey chanteuse; her voice contains a snarling sensuality not unlike that of P.J. Harvey or Insides' Kirsty Yates.
Res Cogitans is a little uneven and rough around the edges. There are times where a greater sense of economy would be nice; opening track "Avernal" stalls in the final two minutes with an accordion-driven finale that feels a bit out of place. And while it's nice in this day and age of overproducing and studio fakery to see a band forgo any sense of studio polish and record everything live, especially a band as atmospherically-minded as Plumerai, a little polish and overdubbing is not an absolute evil. There are times where the bass-prominent sound gets muddy, where Ezell's voice isn't as clear and piercing as it should be, where transitions within songs stumble a bit.
But at their core Plumerai have things figured pretty well out, especially when Ezell's shivering voice sidles up against "En Vole"'s sparse guitars and Parisian accordions, or the band weaves some chilled vibes and a John Barry-esque melody into "Illuminata". An album is forthcoming sometime in 2007, and one hopes that the EP's flaws are simply due to the band working out some kinks in their sound. If honed properly, Plumerai could have something really solid and eclectic -- seriously, who incorporates accordion into post-punk? -- on their hands come next year.
~ Jason Morehead, Opus
Four songs. 21 minutes. Both represent confined space for a band that would be adequately described as contemplative. Trying to make an impression in that brief period would be a difficult undertaking for most artists; challenging but, as we learn from Plumerai, not impossible.
Their EP Res Cognitans is an obvious showcase for something more. The songs are all stirring numbers, from the trampling, 7-minute rock number "Avernal" featuring an eastern European tinge to the Cure-cum-Sundays "Linear," a track that would have been famous on MTV's 120 Minutes. The song - which would make an ideal single, features Elizabeth Ezell's pining, straining vocals. Some would say that Beth Orton or Chan Marshall are both clearly in her class but her vocal draw comes without peer among pop contemporaries. Her lightning shudders are sexy deeply affecting the winking guitars, swinging beat, and by the end loses herself in the crashing mix. Although they are long for pop songs, nothing on Res Cognitans sprawls so much as it curls softly into a pensive ball. Plumerai handles the confinement of their recording very well, bringing esoteric rock elements like an accordion into the mix, and utilizing a live recording with minimal overdubs. Song craft becomes the star, backbones provided by Martin Newman's deeply reverb fed guitars and a rhythm section with the undercurrent of libidinous undulation. The result is a warm, enthralling sound.
The name Plumerai comes from a French lullaby about depluming a bird. An arcane reference to draw for a band title, sure, but it is a more than fitting one. This Boston area quartet twines dreamy and uncommon strings, and ultimately their EP is a short, yet rewarding listen. That assessment is true from top to bottom of Res Cogitans, a taste -- a sample, a trifling of rock extraordinary, before it's done.
~ Erick Mertz, Kevchino
Their EP Res Cognitans is an obvious showcase for something more. The songs are all stirring numbers, from the trampling, 7-minute rock number "Avernal" featuring an eastern European tinge to the Cure-cum-Sundays "Linear," a track that would have been famous on MTV's 120 Minutes. The song - which would make an ideal single, features Elizabeth Ezell's pining, straining vocals. Some would say that Beth Orton or Chan Marshall are both clearly in her class but her vocal draw comes without peer among pop contemporaries. Her lightning shudders are sexy deeply affecting the winking guitars, swinging beat, and by the end loses herself in the crashing mix. Although they are long for pop songs, nothing on Res Cognitans sprawls so much as it curls softly into a pensive ball. Plumerai handles the confinement of their recording very well, bringing esoteric rock elements like an accordion into the mix, and utilizing a live recording with minimal overdubs. Song craft becomes the star, backbones provided by Martin Newman's deeply reverb fed guitars and a rhythm section with the undercurrent of libidinous undulation. The result is a warm, enthralling sound.
The name Plumerai comes from a French lullaby about depluming a bird. An arcane reference to draw for a band title, sure, but it is a more than fitting one. This Boston area quartet twines dreamy and uncommon strings, and ultimately their EP is a short, yet rewarding listen. That assessment is true from top to bottom of Res Cogitans, a taste -- a sample, a trifling of rock extraordinary, before it's done.
~ Erick Mertz, Kevchino
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